Page 118 of Prince of the Palisades

My knuckles crack as my hands curl into fists. I force myself to shake out my fingers. I can’t let him get the best of me.

“We’re sorry to have interrupted your busy schedule, Prime Minister,” Papa says for me.

“Anything for you, Your Majesty.”

Barnard relaxes on his plush chair. His coal-black eyes never leave my strained face. I do my best not to fidget. Or set him on fire. He strokes his thin beard, then says, “Have I been brought here today for an apology?”

My eyes shift to Papa, pleading.Please don’t make me do this.

He adjusts his cuffs like he’s waiting for me to do as the prime minister has requested. I feel sick. Everything that happened yesterday—the words said, the tears shed—none of it matters.

It’s still Réverie first. Jadon…never.

My dry lips part. Before anything comes out, Papa raises a hand.

“Yes, Jadon. It’s time for an apology.” He rotates on his throne. “Prime Minister Barnard. Apologize to my son.”

The air is sucked from the room. Heads crane in Papa’s direction. All but Samuel, whose steely, unforgiving glare is on Barnard.

So is Papa’s, ringed by a fire I’ve never seen in him.

“What could you possibly mean?” Barnard thrashes an arm in my direction. “He’s the one who—”

“I know what my son did,” Papa says evenly. “But no one here knows whatyoudid.”

“W-what I’ve done?” Barnard stammers.

Papa lifts an eyebrow. “Only Jadon knew. Isn’t that right, son?”

My hands are trembling so hard, my wrists ache. I swallow, looking into my papa’s curious eyes. “You know what he said?”

“Samuel as well.” He motions toward Barnard. “Thanks tohisson.”

Barnard’s throat moves, but for the first time, he doesn’t speak.

I did the right thing. That’s what Léon said.

“Papa”—I fight through the tightness in my throat—“what did Léon say?”

“He contacted Samuel yesterday. Told him everything,” Papa confirms. His eyes have turned to pools of regret. “We had Léon flown here overnight. I wanted to speak with him in person.”

“Your Majesty,” Barnard attempts.

“Save your words, Prime Minister,” Papa demands.

“Simon,” Mom whispers. “What’s happening?”

I try to grab Papa’s gaze. To stop him. She can’t hear this part.

The edges of Papa’s softened expression promise me this needs to happen. It’s okay. He steps off the dais.

“The prime minister has some…thoughtson our queen’s place in Réverie,” Papa tells the room. “Whether she’s worthy to sit on that throne.”

Papa’s tall, like me and Annika. His perfect posture gives him even more height as he stares down at Barnard.

“All things my son, the prince, heard you say.” His jawflexes. “In the Rouge Room. Three months ago. Right before a certain video of him was released.”

Barnard chooses silence over admission.

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